The Envelope
by dharmamonkey
Summary: A mysterious envelope arrives in the mail from the U.S. Army and Brennan panics. Booth comes home from a trip, opens the envelope, explains the meaning of its contents to Brennan & comforts her anxiety. A oneshot set in the K2B universe.


**The Envelope**

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**By:** dharmamonkey  
**Rated:** M  
**Disclaimer:** _Hart Hanson owns _Bones_. But people like me who play in his sandbox give you all those delicious little moments that Hart and friends leave out. In this case, AU do-overs for that gap between Seasons 5 and 6 that wrought so much havoc for our heroes. That's why you read fanfic._

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**A/N****: **_This oneshot is a little itty bitty sequel to my piece, "Killing Two Birds." What happens below will make very little sense if you haven't read K2B. If you read K2B, you might like this little piece. _

**Adult content warning: **_Come on. Are you really that surprised? Or just really happy about it? Either way, if you don't like reading about adult situations, or aren't supposed to be reading about them, don't read this piece. Otherwise, read on._

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As I stood there in the hallway unlocking the door, the first thing that hit me was the smell—vegetable lasagna, as far as I could tell—and Pat Metheny Group playing on the stereo.

I knew she was home, and after four days out of town on a case that she wasn't working on with me, I was nearly crawling out of my skin with excitement to see her again. Those four days were the longest we'd been apart since she showed up in Afghanistan, two days after the helicopter crash—the one that took the lives of the eleven other guys in my unit and the ten aircrew on the two choppers that they were on, and the one that damn near lost me the use of my right hand. My hands had been shaking on the whole drive home from Dulles, I was so excited to see her, and so I was relieved when I got to the door and heard the music and smelled dinner, because it meant she was home.

I wiggled the key in the lock, which reminded me I needed to remind the building supervisor to do something about that lock assembly. The deadbolt finally opened with a _clack _and I opened the door, expecting to find her in the kitchen, but after a quick glance around the kitchen, dining room and living room, I felt suddenly a little lightheaded.

"Bones?" I called out to her. "Where are you, Bones?"

I dropped my keys on the foyer table, walked over to the bookshelf nearest the foyer and deposited my service pistol in the gun-safe.

"Hey, Bones?" I called out again, but still I heard not a sound in reply.

The bedroom door was closed most of the way, cracked open just an inch or two, and I figured she was taking a nap. She was a couple of weeks shy of the end of her first trimester and had been feeling quite exhausted lately, and it wouldn't have been the first time she cut out early from the Jeffersonian so she could come home and catch a few _zzz_'s before dinner. I walked over to the stove and opened the oven—just to have a sniff, you know—to take a peek at the lasagna, which lay on the middle rack, its bubbly goodness gently illuminated by the oven light, which I was very glad I replaced last weekend. I couldn't help but smile as I thought how many times over the last couple of months I'd been smacked or chastised by Bones for opening the oven to peek. The way she tells it, dinner takes twice as long to cook because me opening the oven to peek ruins the thermal efficiency of the something-or-the-other. I remembered the last time she'd busted me peeking:

"Ovens are for peeking," I told her.

"Of course, Booth," she'd said. "That's why there's a window in the front of the oven—so you don't have to actually _open_ the oven to view its contents."

"Well, come on, that totally ruins all the fun," I'd replied with a cheeky grin. She'd rolled her eyes and smiled back. She feigns annoyance when I say stuff like that but, deep down, she loves it and she knows it.

I took one last long, deep sniff of the absolutely fantastic-smelling lasagna and closed the oven. If I didn't love her already, the fact that Bones makes wickedly good Italian food—so wickedly good that I don't even miss the meat when she makes it vegetarian—would definitely put me over the edge and make me hers forever.

I walked over and started to sift through the mail on the top of the counter, most of which, by the looks of it, was junk: a takeout menu and coupons from a new Lebanese place that opened up in Georgetown, an L.L. Bean catalog (I order one pair of fuzzy slippers from them for Bones, and now we're in junk mail purgatory for eternity), a power bill, a phone bill, some kind of squinty magazine for her, a Bed Bath & Beyond coupon (which if I even _thought _of throwing away, I'd never hear the end of it, not that I'm complaining, since I've rather gotten used to the high thread-count sheets Bones is always buying there), and the latest issue of _Sports Illustrated. _Claude Giroux was on the cover, hip-checking Ryan Callahan of the Rangers against the boards, and I was just about to flip to the article about the Flyers when I heard a sound come from the bedroom.

She was crying.

I closed the magazine and was about to set it down when my gaze fell on another envelope sitting on top of the uninspected half of the mail pile. My eyes zeroed in immediately on the return address.

_United States Army  
__Human Resources Command  
__1600 Spearhead Division Avenue  
__Fort Knox, KY 40122_

My heart sank as soon as I saw it. _Oh shit, _I muttered to myself. _Fuck, fuck, fuck. Dammit. _I shoved my finger under the flap, tore the envelope open and pulled out the form letter inside. _Oh, Jesus, _I thought to myself.

I grabbed the envelope and quickly walked to the bedroom. I pushed the door open and I felt my heart clench when I saw her sitting there on the bed, her knees pulled up in front of her chest. She looked up at me, her eyes red-rimmed and her cheeks damp with tears.

"Bones," I said as I sat down on the bed next to her. "What's wrong?" I asked, putting my hand on her knee and stroking her kneecap with my thumb. She hadn't even changed clothes—she was still wearing the dark gray slacks and burgundy-colored, three-quarter sleeve, button-down blouse she was wearing that morning when she went to the lab.

She blinked and looked away, shaking her head and wiping the tears from her eyes before raising her head again to bring her eyes to meet mine. "Booth," she said quietly, her voice ragged from crying. She glanced over and saw the envelope I was holding in my left hand. "I-I…it's just…" She swallowed and pointed to it as I turned the envelope over in my hand.

"Bones," I whispered. "It's not what you think."

"After everything they did to you, Booth," she said. "And everything they tried to do to you, I don't know what to think."

"Baby," I said. "It's okay. It's gonna be okay."

She looked at me with a pained, wide-eyed expression that nearly broke my heart. "The last time I saw you sitting there with an envelope from the U.S. Army, it was them trying to coax you back in with promises of a promotion and—"

"Shhh," I said. Knowing that I could say anything but that what she needed—what my crazy, beautiful Bones needed—was facts, and not reassurance, I reached into the envelope and pulled out the paper inside. "Look—here…this isn't one of those letters, mmm-kay?"

She hesitated for a moment, staring at the piece of paper for a couple of seconds before reaching out and snatching it out of my hands. She unfolded it and looked at it, her eyes scanning the form, narrowing, then widening, then narrowing again as her eyebrows raised and lowered as she analyzed what she was reading.

"It's my revised DD 214, Bones," I said. "My discharge record." She looked up and blinked the moisture from her beautiful, glistening gray-green eyes as an awkward smile came over her face. "Remember how they screwed it up the first time and had me down for an Administrative Discharge, and how I had to go in and talk to that guy to get them to change it? And how they fucked up my permanent address and sent the revised form to my old apartment, even though I changed my address with Human Resources Command months ago? It's just now that the revised, corrected form finally caught up with me again."

"Look at the bottom, Bones," I said gently.

"Character of service?" she asked. I nodded mutely. "Honorable."

"That's right, Bones," I said, squeezing her knee a little. "Look at the other box, baby. In the lower left."

Her brow furrowed a little bit, then she found the box I was referring to, and her brow softened again. "Completion of required active service."

"Bones," I said, running my hand down her calf and back up to her knee. "That means I'm done, alright?"

"They can't come and get you again?" she asked, her question punctuated by a sniff.

I shook my head. "No, Bones," I said. "It's done. They're not gonna come back for me. I served my time." The way I said it, it really did come across like I'd just been paroled from prison. "Besides, I've caused the U.S. Army more than enough trouble. They're not gonna bring me back with that IRR crap. I finished out my time. I'm done. It's over. I'm not going back. This paper's just the proof of that, Bones."

I smiled at her, and she smiled back, wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. "I guess it was kind of foolish of me to just assume…" Her voice wavered and then trailed off. She shook her head, then took a deep breath. "I just…I saw the envelope, and I kind of twigged out."

"Wigged out," I corrected her with a smirk. "You wigged out." I took the paper from her hands and stuffed it back in the envelope, then set it on her nightstand table.

"Come 'ere," I said, leaning in and pulling her into an embrace. "It's okay, alright? After all the crap we've been through, you and me? It's okay." I held her close, turning my head so I nuzzled my nose into her soft auburn hair. I felt her shudder in my arms as she let go of the last of her tears.

"Shhhhh," I whispered as I breathed in the faint smell of her ginger-peach shampoo. I loved the way her hair smelled. To be honest, I always have. I remember sitting in my bunk in Afghanistan, before the crash and—before all hell broke loose over there for me, but before I got Bones back—and I'd be laying there, trying to sleep, and trying to think of home, and the things that made me think of home. I'd think about watching my boys, the Broad Street Bullies, playing on ESPN, and the sound the sticks and skates made. That was a sound that always made me think of home. I thought of Parker, and sitting the living room of my apartment playing Xbox with him, racing cars and listening to him laugh when he crashed his Mini Cooper into the wall at the Brickyard. I thought of Bones: the way she smiled, the way her pretty hair fell on her shoulders, the way her eyes looked—and the way they darkened when she was pissed off, or when she was turned on—but, for some reason, one of the things about Bones that relaxed me, you know, when I thought about it, was the way her hair smelled.

"It's okay," I told her, turning my head again and kissing her forehead. "Nobody's goin' anywhere, alright? The Army? That's all finished with now. I'm here, and you're here, and we're good, baby."

"I know, Booth," she said as she pulled away from me, a faint smile flashing across her lips before she frowned. "I guess it's just the hormones." She looked up at me and shrugged her brows. "I was sitting there last night, watching a show on the excavation of the Roman baths at Weissenburg, in Germany—the show was full of inaccuracies about the methodology, Booth, and—"

I laughed a little. I've never met someone who could ruin educational TV like my wife. She brings couchside critique to the level of an art form. I love her like crazy, but damn, that woman can really flatten the experience of watching a good documentary. Somehow or the other, Parker doesn't mind it when she does that. So when the two of them are sitting there watching the Discovery Channel or whatever, I just let 'em go, and I watch them watch the show, narrated by Parker's chit-chat and Bones' nitpicking, and try to contain my laughter as best I can.

"I know, Bones," I said with a grin.

"Oh," she chuckled. "Yes, and so I was watching this show about the Weissenburg baths, and all of a sudden, I just stared crying. For no damn reason, I just…I just started to cry. There was no emotional predicate for it, it was just—"

"Bones," I said, cupping my hands around her jaw as I pulled her in for a kiss. Our mouths met, and for a moment, before she parted her lips, I could taste the salt of her tears on them. Our tongues met briefly and I felt the way she hummed at the contact, her mouth clutching at mine as she returned my kiss before I reluctantly pulled away. "You're pregnant. It's what happens. It's normal."

"I'm not normal, Booth," she said with a pout, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm extraordinary."

"I know you are," I said with a laugh. "That's why I love you." I leaned in and kissed her again. "You are extraordinary. I'm not sure why the hell an extraordinary woman like you wants to hang around with an ordinary guy like me, but—"

Bones sat back against the pillow she'd propped up behind her and gave me an appraising look. "Well," she said, giving me that sexy half-grin that always unwound me every time she did it. "You do look quite extraordinary in a three-piece suit, Booth."

"Uhh…" I looked down, realizing that I was, in fact, in a three-piece suit for the first time since, hell, the month or two after my brain surgery a couple of years ago. "Oh," I said a bit self-consciously. "Well, you know I had that case—" I stood up and walked over to the mirror that hung over our dresser. I then remembered the last time I'd wore this suit, a charcoal-gray gabardine one with faint pinstripes: the day we solved that case involving that midget wrestler, when I'd arrested his brother for the murder. The next day, I took my marksmanship requalification test, which I'd been terrified I'd fail, but I'd managed to talk Bones into coming with me to watch, and ol' Gordon Gordon had been right, after all—I passed.

"Yes," she said, her voice more than a little suspicious in its tone. "The one you wouldn't tell me the details of…"

I shrugged. "Come on," I said with a shrug. "It was an undercover operation, Bones. A sting, and—"

"What does that have to do with you wearing a three-piece suit?" she asked. "Not that I'm complaining." She swung her legs around to the side of the bed and quickly stood up, closing the distance between us in just a couple of steps.

"I…well…uh…" I stammered, because I suddenly found myself unable to focus on whatever I was going to say as Bones reached under my suitcoat and slid her fingertips between my dress shirt and the waistband of my trousers. "I, you know…uh…oh…" She ran her hands up my sides and over my chest, her palms never breaking contact with my body as she cupped my shoulders and slid my suitcoat off. I cleared my throat and shrugged out of it as she tugged the sleeves off my arms.

"We were taking down these four guys from the Capestrano family, including the one guy you helped us tag for killing that guy whose…" I heard my suitcoat fall to the floor and felt her deft, slender fingers begin to unbutton my vest.

"Yes, Booth?" she said, prompting me. _Oh, God, she's good at this. _I looked at her, and her pale eyes had darkened the way they always did when she was turned on. She was looking at me like a lioness looks at a grazing gazelle just before she takes her down.

"Um…yeah, what was I saying?"

"The Capestrano family," she said quietly, a wicked smile cracking her lips as she continued to work the last two buttons of my vest. If I wasn't already getting hard feeling her hands on me, working those little black buttons, the minute I saw that smile, I was done for, and I knew she had me.

"I don't want to talk about the Capestrano family, baby," I said in a low voice as she plucked the last button free. My vest fell open and I felt her hands come up, her fingers splayed across my belly as she stroked her thumbs up the placket of my shirt, and underneath the light gray tie that I was wearing.

"That's quite a coincidence," she muttered. "Because neither do I."

"_Nnnnggth_," was all I could manage in reply as she began unknotting my tie. I shifted my feet in place as I felt myself getting very hard, and while part of me wanted to stop her—partly because I wanted to reach over and start undressing _her_, and partly because the slowness with which she was undressing me was, it seemed, going to be the end of me—the better part of me found the whole process incredibly arousing. Well, in particular, one part of me, which was getting awfully hard and she hadn't even got near it.

"I didn't quite catch that, Booth," she said in a husky voice that made my balls hitch. She tugged the knot of my tie loose and quickly unknotted it, then slid it out from underneath the cutaway collar. "Mmmm," she murmured as she threw my tie on top of the dresser. "Do you know how much I've missed you?" she asked.

I lifted my chin as she reached for the top button of my shirt. "If it's half as much as I missed you, baby," I gasped, grunting as she unbuttoned that top button. "Then you're probably damn near out of your mind. I missed you so damn much, Bones."

She licked her lips and smiled as she proceeded with unbuttoning each of the buttons, and I swear, with each one of those buttons, I got harder and harder. "Damn, baby," I groaned.

"I missed you, Booth," she said, her voice having sunk to that deliciously low part of the register that it drove me wild just hearing it, never mind hearing it while she was touching me. "I didn't realize how much a part of my life you'd become…" She paused in her unbuttoning as she reached my belly-button. "Until I realized how much I hated sleeping alone in this bed without you. And…" She plucked the last three buttons loose. "Even more so, waking up in this bed alone, without you."

I reached up and cupped her beautiful face in my hands, then leaned down and kissed her, covering her mouth with mine as I relished in the taste of her, wobbling a little as I stood there when a wave of love and desire crashed over me at feeling her tongue glance against mine.

"I love you, Bones," I said. "I hated being in that hotel room. Every fucking night I was gone. I hated it. I hated being away from you."

"Booth," she said as she lifted herself up on her toes and kissed me, her sweet mouth grasping at mine as my hands, seemingly with a mind of their own, wandered from her delicate, square jaw to her shoulders and then along the long line of her arms to her waist. I tried to focus my mind on what I wanted to do—which was to take off her clothes so I could see and feel that wonderful body of hers—but as her lips worked at mine, her tongue dancing around in my mouth, I couldn't think straight.

Thank God there are some things that just don't require any thinking. I honestly can't remember how exactly it happened that I'd gotten her clothes off—because, frankly, I can vaguely remember starting to unbutton that wine-colored blouse of hers—but somehow, I must have, because the next thing I realized, we were in bed, the covers torn to the side and Bones laying there under me, her pale eyes glittering with want as I perched over her, taking in the incredible picture of her.

"God, you're beautiful," I said to her, leaning my weight onto my left hand as I brought my right hand over the subtle roundness of her belly. "You're so incredible, Bones," I whispered, letting my fingers pause over her navel as I imagined the child of ours that was growing inside of her. Her skin was so soft, smooth and white like marble, but warm and silky, and no matter how much time I spent caressing it, I could never get enough.

"Four days," she said huskily as her legs fell more widely apart and I felt her hands come around to palm my ass. "Please, Booth," she demanded, her low voice as insistent as her fingers as she squeezed my cheeks.

I brought my hand down from her wonderful belly, brushing lightly against her curls before I parted her folds with my fingers. I could feel she was already damp, and the soft moan that escaped from her lips at my touch told me she was almost ready. I drew my forefingers along the length of her, skimming over her warm, wet opening, picking up a little bit of her sweet, silky cream before arriving at the sensitive bundle of nerves above.

"I want you so bad," I told her as I began to draw firm, tight circles over her clit with my fingertips. "I missed you, so much…not just this…but…" She arched her back a little as I lessened up on the pressure there. "But…I can't lie, Bones…" I swallowed hard as I felt my balls tighten. "I missed this, too, baby…I did…so much…"

She leaned her head back and sighed. "Boooothhh..."

"That's it," I whispered, biting the inside of my lip between my teeth as I tried to hold myself together as I tried to send her to the edge. "Come on," I encouraged her, my voice dropping even lower as her mouth fell open in a breathy moan that sent a delicious shiver tingling down my spine.

"Oh, God, Booooooth…"

I felt myself smile as I turned my hand, letting my thumb continue to draw those circles over her clit as I slid my middle finger into her slippery folds. She made a humming sound in her throat as I buried my finger knuckle-deep and began to work her from the inside.

"Mmmm," I murmured. "That's good, baby. You feel so good…I can't wait to be inside of you."

"Ohhhh," she groaned. "I want you inside of me, Booth."

"Nooo," I said, shaking my head as I kept at it, working wide, wet ovals with my thumb and stroking my finger along her inside walls. She closed her thighs around my waist as I felt her muscles tense. She was so close. "Come on," I urged her. "Come on…let go, baby…just let go…"

I felt her palms caress my shoulders. I know she likes my shoulders, and the fact that she likes them so much drives me a little crazy, because I know it drives her a little crazy and has for a long time, since at least as far back as that wacky Santa bomber case when she told me I had perfect acromions. Just thinking about her undressing me like that in the bone room, slowly, bit by bit, still drives me nuts, and in the fractions of a second that I was thinking about it, I guess I got a little more insistent with the way my fingers were working her, because it wasn't too long after that when I felt her squeeze the ends of my shoulders in her hands, arch her back high off the bed and break apart with a long, peaking groan.

"Ohhh, Boooooth…"

Normally, I'm a pretty attentive, patient lover and so, normally, I'd have given her a few minutes to ride out the ebbing waves of her orgasm. But it had been four days since I'd seen her, five nights since we'd been together like this, and I wanted inside of her badly. So, when she slid her hands over my shoulders and dragged those short nails of hers down my back before bringing her hands to rest on my hips, I knew that the ol' Booth patience was all tapped out. As soon as she fanned her fingers over my ass-cheeks and pulled me closer, I was there. _Resistance is futile. _ And the fact of the matter was, I didn't want to resist, and neither did she.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment as I tried to pull together all of my self-control, then lined myself up, swiping myself a couple of times along her slit before sliding home.

"Ohhhh, God, Bones," I hissed, sucking in a hard breath between my teeth as I pressed forward and felt her hot, slippery folds part for me. I drew my hips back a little before I threw my head back and thrust all the way home, balls-deep.

"Oh my God, Booth," she muttered, pulling me flush against her. I pushed back and withdrew a little, grinning as I felt her fingers squeezing my ass, then drove into her again.

"Fuck, you feel good," I growled as I felt myself swallowed up, enveloped by her incredible body.

I rolled my hips back and slid home again, again and again, falling into a natural, mindless, wavelike rhythm as we worked together—me stroking up into her, her meeting each of my movements with one of her own, pulling me into her as she kneaded my ass—and it wasn't long before I felt myself begin to fall into a swiftly narrowing spiral. The room began to spin around me and my vision seemed to darken at the edges as the whole world seemed to collapse into a space only as big as myself and the incredible woman who was moving beneath me.

"Ohhhh," I heard her moan as her low, searching sighs began to peak once more. "Ohhhh…ohhhh…_ohhhh…_"

Bones jerked her hips up against me with each of my strokes and I felt her pelvis press hard against mine as I rose up into her. I could tell what she was doing. She was almost there, and trying to get herself where she wanted to be so I could let go. I felt one of her legs curl up higher around the side of my hip, her ankle resting on the curve of my ass, changing the angle that I came into her.

It took only a couple of more strokes before she broke, clenching around me at the very moment her hands gave my ass one last tight squeeze, and then she let go completely, fluttering around me in the way I loved to feel, each and every time. The moment she finally relaxed around me and I felt her hands slide up from my ass to caress my back, I let myself go, shattering inside of her.

"Oh, my, God," I groaned, letting out a long, deep sigh as I rode out the last of my pulses. "Ohhh…wow…"

I opened my eyes and smiled as I saw her staring at me. "I love watching you come, Booth."

"Yeah?" I croaked.

"Yeah," she said with a laugh. "It's fascinating."

"Hmm," I murmured. "Fascinating?"

"Among other things," she clarified, her mouth falling open in a lopsided grin.

I rolled off of her, wincing as I always do at the feeling of no longer being inside of her, and came to lay next to her. Bones turned and snuggled against my chest, and I pulled her close so her head lay in the crook where my arm and shoulder met and I could bury my nose in her hair, which was now a little damp with sweat but still smelled sweet as I breathed in a long whiff of her.

"I guess I was a bit overwrought," she said after a few minutes of silence between us.

"It's okay, Bones," I said.

"No," she insisted. "I saw that letter from the Army, and I guess I just freaked out. It was irrational on my part. I'm sorry, Booth."

I swallowed, then took a breath. "Bones," I said quietly, bringing my right hand up to caress her hair as I pressed a soft kiss on the top of her head. "It's really okay." I loosened my hold on her and reached my left hand around to grasp hers. "I mean it."

"Maybe it's just the pregnancy hormones making me emotional," she said.

I grinned at the thought of my always-rational partner admitting to being uncontrollably emotional and, secondly, to being reminded once more that the reason for it was, in some small part, because she was pregnant with our child. "I'm serious," I said. "I understand."

"It's just—"

"Bones?"

"Yes, Booth?"

I closed my left hand around hers and stroked my thumb over her wedding band. "Can I tell you a secret?"

She turned her head and looked up at me strangely. "Okay," she said. "What is it?"

"I was a little nervous when I first saw that envelope, too," I confessed.

"Really?"

"Yes," I said, kissing her forehead again. "Really." I rubbed my lips over her damp skin, then said, "But after a couple of seconds of panic, I reminded myself that, one, I'd already been discharged and, two, more importantly, that the U.S. Army, while from time to time being an incredibly bullheaded and idiotic institution, is not foolish enough to call me back in, not for a New York minute."

"I don't know what that means," she said. "The New York minute part, that is."

I chuckled. "What I'm sayin' here, Bones, is that I'm done with the Army, and they're sure as hell done with me. Now I've got that last little bit of paperwork we need, you know, to take that next step."

I felt her forehead crease against my cheek. "What do you mean?"

"You still up for house-hunting this weekend, Bones?" I asked. "Because now that we've got my DD 214, that little piece of paper that came in the mail today, we can apply for a VA mortgage." I heard her make a _pffft _sound, which might have annoyed me, but for whatever reason made me laugh. "Remember what we said, Bones? Straight down the middle. You can take some of your dough and buy down the points on the mortgage. We're gonna let Uncle Sam get us a mortgage without a down payment."

"It's the least he can do, right?" she said. "After all the crap we went through over there."

"Damn straight," I agreed.

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**A/N:** _There you go. This baby was triggered by a Twitter convo about three-piece suits. Somehow, that set off a strange nuclear chain reaction in the monkeybrain, and this is the result. (Don't try to figure out the way I think. I don't understand it either.)_

_In any case, I hope you like that. But don't leave me in the dark. I'm not Avalon. I'm not a psychic. If you liked it, tell me so. Please don't read and run. Leave me a review._

_Just click that pretty little blue button down there and let me know your thoughts. Mmm-hmmm. Yes, folks. That little button there. Come on—you know the one. Do it. You know you want to._

_Thanks._


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